


The Failures of Fathers, the Sinfulness of Sons

by shadow13



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: 'no Elrond he really loves me', Book: Unfinished Tales of Númenor and Middle-earth, Cousins, Elrond and Gil-galad's brolationship will make me cry, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Gil-galad as Fingon's son, Gil-galad is the other woman, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Númenor Week 2020, Oh to hang out with your 'friend' Gil-galad?, War of the Elves and Sauron, You spent SEVEN YEARS in Middle-Earth Aldarion?, i am not convinced, i'm apparently the only one in the world who prefers this, sure babe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:20:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27483358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow13/pseuds/shadow13
Summary: Looking at Aldarion had always been like looking at a stranger.
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel & Ereinion Gil-galad, Gil-galad/Aldarion
Kudos: 12





	The Failures of Fathers, the Sinfulness of Sons

The High King laughed in that light way of his, brushing aside the tent flap, and Elrond followed dutifully behind. “My cousin, always so serious and so dour.”

“We are at war,” Elrond replied in a murmur. “I can hardly be frivolous.”

Gil-galad took his seat at the table, raising his lamp to shed better light on the map below him. He traced one finger along the coastline, and lifted his eyes to his standard bearer, who remained standing, motionless. “You do not say it, but you do not like Aldarion's plans.”

The Peredhel's eyes dropped, but only for a moment, and lifted again. “He says his concern is Sauron, and I'm sure that is partly true – he will savage Númenor if he finishes with us. But his hunger is great; for timber, for ships, for his own glory-” He fell silent.

Gil-Galad raised one eyebrow. “Speak, Elrond.” It was half request, half command.

“It is not my place.”

The king shifted in the chair, and his manner was soft and forgiving. “Elrond.” His standard bearer glanced up. “You are my most loyal companion, and you are my friend. I would hear what you have to say.” But Elrond did not need to speak, those eyes of his – eyes like his Maiar grand-dame – said everything. “Ah.” Gil-galad's smile was wry and painful. “I thought the Half-Elven above all others would harbor no prejudices in this.”

“It is not his status as a mortal man to which I object,” he said, at long last stepping forward, his long and tapered fingers dragging against the edge of the table. “He has a wife-”

“He does not love Erendis,” Gil-galad scoffed, looking back down at his battle plans. “You cannot tell me otherwise. He speaks of her almost never, and half of that in scorn. He leaves her with nary a backward glance for-” He stopped before he could say, “For me.”

“This may be so,” Elrond did not look up. “But he is not free to give himself to anyone. And – he has a child in Númenor.” He glanced up. “A daughter. And you must forgive me in this, for I will not change it – but I cannot see a father abandon his child and stop the scorn that rises in my heart.”

Gil-galad looked at him, and his smile truly was pained now. No, that would never be a fault he could hold with his friend and kinsman; for in that moment, he could see again the Bay of Falas, and the golden ribbon in his father's braid as he stood over him, hands on his still-slender shoulders. “Ereinion – I shall return for you. Keep faith for me, my son.” Elrond was right to pity Aldarion's child, and to scorn the failures of fathers.

He nodded slowly. “ _Mellon n_ _í_ _n_ , wise beyond thy years are you, and my truest friend to speak so. You are right – I have kept Aldarion with me not just for Sauron, but for the pleasures of my own heart. I shall rectify that now.”

Elrond startled across from him at the table. “I would not hurt you purposefully for anything in the circles of the world or beyond them.”

“I know this,” he smiled quietly, finding a clean sheet of paper, and cutting a quill. “And it is why I know when you speak true. Aldarion shall return to Númenor. And to his father I will entrust a letter, to see if others of their people might not help us in our battles. And the king's son shall go back to his wife, to his daughter, and lead his people as he should.”

Elrond leaned forward, and touched his hand that held the quill. Gil-galad looked up at him. “Do not do this because of me.”

But the king only smiled.

* * *

“And for your wife, I have this.” Gil-galad held up a string of jewels beyond compare, they caught the light and reflected it in a thousand, thousand colors. They shone in Aldarion's face, trapped in his beard, and his wide and horrified eyes. “To thank her for loaning me what is hers for these seven long years, and the years before that.”

“You are sending me away?” It was the second time he had said it, this captain of ships. Elrond could see little of his brother in him, but that was to be expected, in these long years and generations in between them. His eyes were grey, but that was not unusual in the House of Beor. Looking at Aldarion had always been like looking at a stranger. He should be sorrowful to see the Men of Númenor go, for their aid against the enemy had not been absent; instead, it was like removing a weight from his shoulders. “Like an errant child, like – like a lover in the dawn?”

Gil-galad only smiled. “How can we expect continued aid from Númenor if you never return hence?”

“Hang Erendis and any thanks or forgiveness! Is _that_ your reasoning? So many times I begged she come, pleaded-”

“It has already been decided.” Gil-galad turned his head away, in that regal bearing of Fingolfin. Elrond's heart swelled. Could Aldarion be so noble, when one day he took up the mantle of Tar? “I foretell that someday you shall return, and when that day comes, warm shall be your welcome here. But welcomes cannot be given if goodbyes are never said.”

“This is your poison in the king's ear,” he turned to Elrond, his temper flaring. Aldarion's temper and his pride, in equal measure, were the worst of his sins. “Your jealousy and spite-!”

“Aldarion.” Gil-galad's voice was singular, calm and piercing. It stopped the man before he could so much as point at the standard bearer. “You will apologize to my lord Elrond.” He stood in one smooth motion, like light over water. “And beg his forgiveness.”

The man seethed. “The day has not yet come when I have begged forgiveness of anyone, in Middle-Earth nor in Númenor.”

“And I say it comes today.” He took a single step forward from his throne. “I love thee truly, but do not presume upon that love too much. For if the day ever comes when I must choose between the beloved Aldarion and my staunchest friend, do not think it is a choice I shall agonize over.” His grey, Finwean eyes were like steel. Even Aldarion wavered before them. “Moreover – you will apologize to him as your kinsman, for he is the brother of Elros, the ancestor of old you call Tar-Minyatur. And you shame your blood in this behavior.”

The color drained from Aldarion's face as he glanced back at Elrond, who stood stoic and unmoving throughout, looking at neither party. “I....” His voice was quiet. “Forgive me, lord. I did not know.” Elrond tilted his head at him. “If....if the High King of the Noldor asks I beg support from the King of Númenor, I can do little else.”

“Just so,” Gil-galad smiled with a nod – but he gave a quick glance at Elrond before he pressed his lips to Aldarion's forehead. “And though the years between us be but little for the Eldar, still I shall count them bitterly, until I meet with thee again.” Elrond looked away at this, but his eyes were not begrudging.

**Author's Note:**

> Very happy to get to share this piece I've been sitting on for Numenor Week!


End file.
